


it's crazy i know, but i wanna go

by Candywii666



Series: Zolf and Wilde's Excellent Adventure [1]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I miss zolf a lot, Suicide Attempt, also Annika made me write this, perhaps strongly encouraged is a better phrase?, so obv I made him cry, spoilers through ep 67, there's a relationship if you squint, through ep 65, we all know how she can get though, well that's a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23549806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candywii666/pseuds/Candywii666
Summary: Feeling lost after the airship trip to Prague, Zolf finds an unexpected companion when he needs it most.
Relationships: Zolf Smith & Oscar Wilde, Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: Zolf and Wilde's Excellent Adventure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694926
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	it's crazy i know, but i wanna go

**Author's Note:**

> **TW/CW for attempted/referenced suicide by drowning and alcohol abuse in the first paragraph!** It's not detailed or graphic, but it is explicit so please read with caution. It's not mentioned again in the rest of the fic so you'll be fine if you just skip over the first paragraph.

It's been a week since Zolf left the group. At first, he just wandered around the city, jumping from bar to bar and sinking his sorrows in the next pint. Then it was five days of binge drinking and bar hopping and eventually, the discovery of the Vltava River. After that, Zolf visited the river every night for the next few days. Not like the visits really mattered; he always ends up washed up on shore the next morning, heart beating and lungs filling with air like they're supposed to be. _Bloody Posidon._ So, Zolf stops jumping in and starts drowning himself in a more traditional sense; with booze and whispers of a past he desperately wants to forget.

Zolf stumbles into a tavern, some run-down side of the wall place with a forgettable name, and slides onto a stool at the counter. He signals to the barman, grabs a pint, and predictably starts to wallow in his past. _Harlequins_ , the name echos through Zolf's head. A group devoted to rebelling against the god damn meritocrats, and his family was connected to them on multiple levels. How the hell did he not know this? Both his father and his brother, working with a secret organization for countless years, and he had no idea. Zolf lets out a sigh and slams the rest of his drink. 

“Brilliant. Just… brilliant.” He catches the attention of the barkeep to grab him another drink, content to continue wallowing in his sorrow for a few more days when a person sits down at the stool next to him. Zolf quickly glances over and sees a familiar profile, dropping his head on the counter and letting out an exasperated groan. 

“Great. Just what I bloody needed. Oscar fucking Wilde. To what do I owe this- you know what no this isn’t a pleasure. Why the hell are you here Wilde? What could you possibly want?” Zolf doesn’t even look at Wilde, rather he just stares at his empty pint glass as he waits for his new drink. 

“Well I’d like to think that’s rather obvious Zolf. I’m her-“

“You know what? No. Whatever you’re planning on saying to me Wilde, save it. If the people I actually care about couldn’t convince me to stay, there’s no way in the nine hells that you’ll be able to. So why don’t you fuck off before I drown you-“ The threat stalls on his lips as Zolf catches the habit before it escapes. He sighs again before muttering “or, I don’t know, stab you with a sword or something.”

“Well, something must really be off if you’re not threatening to ‘drown me in a bucket’ anymore. Bit of a lover’s quarrel with the sea-god himself, hmm? Thought you might’ve had that sorted after your little venture over the channel.” Wilde lets out a small chuckle before flagging down the bartender again. “Bottle of fire whiskey and two glasses please, quick as you can,” and slides three platinum pieces across the counter. 

“Uh, yeah o’ course. Right ‘way sir.” 

“Don’t want your booze Wilde, I want to be left alone,” Zolf huffs, but the bartender returns before he can say anything else.

“Thank you sir, that will be all,” Wilde smiles and nods curtly before turning back to the dwarf next to him. “Now, you have a few choices in front of you Zolf. One, you can stand up and walk out the door. I promise I won’t follow you, you’re a grown dwarf who can make his own decisions and I’m not going to try and butt heads with that stubborn will of yours. Two, you can sit here with me and enjoy a drink, make light small talk, and we can part ways after a lovely evening. But your third option,” Wilde uncorks the bottle of whiskey and pours some into the two glasses, “is you can sit here and actually talk to me, and we can try and get you sorted.” Wilde picks up the glasses and hands one to Zolf expectantly. “What do you say to that?”

For the first time that night, Zolf lifts his head and actually meets Wilde’s eyes, expecting to see Wilde’s standard mischievous look. But what he sees instead stops the insult before it can form. It’s concern; genuine concern, and that nearly breaks him. He almost gets up, almost walks out the door cause he thinks that whatever Wilde is doing it’s just another manipulative tactic to get him to stay, but something in Wilde’s eyes makes him pause and grab the drink being offered to him with a nod. 

They sit in silence for a while. Wilde sipping patiently on his glass, occasionally tossing a glance Zolf’s way that he pointedly doesn’t meet. Zolf swirls the whiskey around in the glass a few times, watching the faint sparks dance in the liquid before speaking up. “Why- why do you care, Wilde? What does it matter if I’ve gone?”

Wilde sputters on his drink but manages to recover before Zolf seems to notice. A benefit for Wilde apparently, since Zolf’s been drinking for… gods know how long. As calmly as he can, Wilde turns slightly and addresses Zolf.

“Why ever would you think it _wouldn’t_ matter Zolf?”

“Dunno. Never put much stock in myself so,” Zolf shrugs and pours himself another drink, “didn’t think others really did either.”  
Zolf’s brain was fuzzy from the whiskey. He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t see why it mattered that he hated himself; everybody’s filled with mounds of self-deprecating bullshit, right? Why did his personal experience with self-love factor into all of this? Everyone hated themself. _Well, everyone except Bertie._ At that though, Zolf’s face twinged with fury and he lost focus on the glass he was pouring into. Wilde snatched the bottle from Zolf’s hands before he could make too much of a mess and gingerly set the bottle out of Zolf’s reach. 

“My dear Zolf, it appears we may have our work cut out for us.”

“‘chu mean by that Wilde?”

Wilde pauses for a moment, sighing quietly before taking a sip of his drink and turning himself to face Zolf. “Seems to me, Zolf, that you don’t find yourself to be that important.”

“Well of course not! I’m just a cleric we’re a dime a dozen what’s so spec-“

“But in reality,” Wilde cuts him off and gives Zolf a pointed look, “you are probably the most important person in all of this. Not just because of your abilities, although those are most certainly a factor, but because despite your brash and harden exterior, despite your unfortunate background and losses, and all the defenses you've put up since," Wilde grasps the dwarf's shoulder, "you've still managed to let people love you. You’re a pillar of strength in all of this Zolf.” Wilde releases Zolf's shoulder and turns to his glass for another sip of his drink, pretending not to notice the man next to him hurriedly wipes at his face. 

“Now I know that what I’m saying isn’t enough to change your... perspectives, towards yourself, but I do hope it’s enough to get through your thick skull that there are people who care for you out there. Do you think Sasha would be as open as she is with someone she didn’t trust implicitly? Hamid too, that man practically idolizes you. Even Bertie, underneath those many, _many_ layers, there’s still a kernel of affection buried in there. These people love you, Zolf, and they're not the only ones. There are some that aren't quite as far as you think.” Wilde looks warmly to Zolf as he speaks, a small smile playing across his lips. Zolf looks pointedly at the bar, small drops of wetness spattering the counter as Zolf fails to hide his shaking.

“I understand that this is a difficult spot, believe me when I say I know where you’ve been, so why don’t you take some time off, ey? I know it’s been, well, _especially_ hard after Paris, so why not spend a few weeks sorting yourself out.” Wilde pauses a moment, glancing between his drink and Zolf before adding, “I could join you, if you’d like. Keep you a bit of company to stave off the insanity.”

Zolf lets out a cough of a chuckle before responding, “Dunno ‘bout that Wilde. Pretty sure I’d go crazy with or without you.”

Wilde reaches a tentative hand towards the dwarf before grasping his shoulder again. “Seems like we’re going to be traveling together for a bit then.”

“Yeah suppose so. I uh- thanks, Wilde.”

“Don’t mention it,” Wilde gives Zolf's shoulder a small squeeze before standing and draining the rest of his glass. “Oh, one last thing Zolf,” Wilde says as he heads for the door. 

“What’s that?”

Wilde looks over his shoulder, familiar smug grin finding home once again on his face. 

“Call me Oscar,” and he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write things so if you find any errors or needed tags let me know! also the title is a lyric from  _Road Trip_ by chloe moriondo;


End file.
